You are Pietro
by EmotionallyConstipatedOops
Summary: Charles and the gang break into a secret mutant experimentation facility and find a young boy with silver hair who hasn't left the facility since he arrived as a baby.
1. chapter 1

**A.N.: This is my first fanfic and I started this without any huge plan, I just wanted to write. 'Peter' shows up in the next chapter. And in this fic Charles isn't in a wheelchair and Erik isn't a wanted criminal. Idk man thanks for even getting this far.**

Erik and Charles had spent weeks, months, tracking down leads on a mutant experimentation lab. For months mutants had been disappearing without a trace.

The only reason they had been able to track down the missing mutants was by Hank painstakingly scanning the security footage of the towns the mutants had disappeared from. Eventually he had been able to track one of the vans that the mutants had unwillingly disappeared into without it disappearing into an area without cameras.

Every piece of footage that Hank had collected ended up the same. A young mutant being drugged then carried or dragged into the back of a waiting van, which then would promptly speed off. After hours of following the van through traffic cameras, it finally stopped outside of a unobtrusive brick building on the outside of a small Ohio town. There was a small loading dock in the back of the building that the van backed up to and opened the back doors into. Through the grainy footage Hank could barely make out the form of an unconscious child being quickly carried into the building.

Hank quickly called to the Professor mentally. ' _Professor, I got it,'_ he told him eagerly. Within a minute Hank was joined by Charles, Erik, Alex, and Raven.

"Right here," Hank said, pointing to the screen. "It's a small town in the outskirts of Ohio. The building is registered under private ownership, so there's no official name, but it's been under their ownership for about 5 years.

"Jesus," Charles said in horror. "Think how many children they'd be able to capture in that time." It was unknown why, but only child mutants had been captured so far.

"I'll be damned if we let them get one more," Erik stated as they all nodded in agreement. "How quickly can we get there?"

Charles sat thoughtfully for a moment. "If we take the jet we can be there in a little over two hours. Let's get going. Hank, I trust that you'll pilot?"

Hank nodded hesitantly. "Yeah of course but we're just going to go crashing in? That doesn't exactly seem like the best plan."

"I'm sorry but I agree with Hank," Raven said apologetically. "I want those kids out just as much as you but charging in there without a plan isn't going to help them. They've been doing this for years. I'm sure they know how to handle mutants."

"Yes, Raven," Charles said already walking towards the jet hangar, "but I'll be damned if I leave those children there a moment longer than necessary. We can plan on the way there."

The three others quickly moved to follow him, not wanting to waste any more time. A few minutes later, Hank was starting up the jet.

Erik, Charles, Hank, and Raven could only hope they weren't too late.


	2. Chapter 2 I guess

When Pietro woke up he couldn't feel his extremities, not that this was anything out of the ordinary. The small room was pitch black, so he couldn't see his breath in the freezing air.

The eleven year old lay there struggling to catch his breath after his latest nightmare. When he was finally able to calm down he crawled his way to the corner of the room, or as far as the manacle around his left ankle would allow him. He'd found that if he lay on his stomach and stretched his arms out, he could god just barely reach a small puddle in the corner of the room, made up of water that drops from a pipe in the ceiling.

It probably wasn't the cleanest, but Pietro couldn't care less. He couldn't remeber the last time he felt clean, nor the last time they gave him water. He remembered a while ago they had strapped him to a chair and blasted him with water even colder than his room. Was it weeks ago? Months? Years? It didn't matter. Time didn't matter here. Pietro had no way they keep track of how long he'd been here. Everything was erratic and inconsistent. The room could be pitch black one minutes then filled with blinding light the next, only for the light to disappear roughly ten minutes later.

Even his feedings were erratic. They tended to only feed him when they wanted him to run. That's why he was here, after all. So they could experiment on his mutation, super speed. If he couldn't run, he was worthless to them. Except for when they would experiment with him medically, such as seeing how his speed would react to certain drugs or how fast he could heal. But they didn't need him to be conscious for that. He usually was though, for every excruciating second.

His stomach clenched painfully as he thought back to the last experiment, in which the people in white coats with small pieces of cloth covering their mouths had placed him on a treadmill after giving him two slices of bread. He had fallen into unconsciousness after a few minutes of running at top speed.

Pietro reached a trembling hand down to his left calf, where he had a large burn where he had fallen on the treadmill. It wasn't quite as bad anymore, but still hurt like hell. He knew it would be the least of his problems soon though. He had overheard two of people in the white coats talking when they thought he was still unconscious.

"...Regenitive... break limbs... should... surgical..."

Pietro was desperate to learn more. He hated the uncertainty of what may happen next. It wasn't that the scientists would speak in code around him, or only speak when he couldn't hear them. He simply couldn't understand most of what they were saying. Pietro couldn't remember much of his mother, but he knew that's where he got his language from. He had a vague memory of his mother speaking Romani to him before he had been placed in an orphanage. Before the people in the white coats had found him. So the only English he knew came from watching and listening. He didn't know what the word 'surgical' meant, but he knew that whenever they said it he would wind up in that dreaded room. The room with a sleek metal table with leather straps to hold him down, and lots of metal trays with lots of metal contraptions. Those were the worst days. Those were they days he was sure he would die, whether from blood loss or sheer pain.

Pietro was pulled from his thoughts as he heard loud footsteps echoing down the hallways outside of his cell, labeled Room 113. Pietro's heart sank. He had hoped he'd have more time to rest, but he knew better. The large metal door to his cell creaked open and two large men walked in with a woman in a lab coat behind them. Man 1 fastened a wire around Pietro's neck attached to a stick, similar to the kind used on dangerous animals. Meanwhile, Man 2 unlocked the manacle around Pietro's ankle. As soon as they were finished the two men gripped the boy by his upper arms and pulled the boy down the hall. Pietro idly felt his feet dragging behind him.

Finally they came to another room with another large metal door. Pietro felt terror rise in his chest as he saw where he was going. _Shit,_ the kid thought, _I knew it._ Maybe today would be an easier day, he tried to reassure himself. Maybe they would only peel back a few layers of skin or inject that firey substance into his chest again that had left him almost unable to breathe for days.

As they plopped him down on the table and started to fasten the straps and fit the gag into his mouth, Pietro felt his hope slowly die.


	3. Chapter threeeeee

When Erik, Charles, Hank, Alex, and Raven arrived at the facility, it was surprisingly easy to break in. Charles felt surprise radiate from the few people they encountered in the hallways, each of them wearing a white lab coat.

 _They must not have expected anyone to come looking for these kids,_ Erik mentally projected to Charles. Charles could feel the anger coming off of the man, not that he could blame him. It was painfully obvious how unprepared the facility was for an intrusion. The grown mutants had practically walked through the front door with no resistance. All Erik had to do was manipulate the locked metal doors to open. The others hadn't even needed to use their powers.

Once they entered the facility they found long white hallways with doors every couple of feet. Upon inspection the group found that the rooms were roughly ten foot wide squares. When Alex set foot inside one he discovered he could see his breath.

"Jesus," he said, "it's freezing in here." Alex wrapped his arms around his chest.

Seeing only empty rooms, the group continued forward. Whenever they encountered one of those humans in the lab coats, Charles would raise his hand to his head and tell the human to get into one of the empty rooms and stay there. As they moved on the group became more and more worried. Had they been too late? Where had all the children gone?

Finally Charles, who was at the back of the group making its way through the halls, cried out, "There!"

Alex and the rest whipped around to see where the telepath was pointing. His right hand was held up to his temple, while his left was pointing at a closed door further down the hall. The group quickly rushed down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the tiles.

Erik reached out his left hand and the door was ripped off its hinges. Raven was the first to reached the cell. Cowering in the corner was a blonde girl roughly the age of fifteen, staring at where the door used to be with wide eyes. Raven held her hands up in a calming gesture.

"It's ok," she said, changing from her preferred blonde form to her blue form. "We're mutants too. We're here to get you out."

The girl hesitantly stood when Raven beckoned to her. After taking two steps, the girl flung herself into Raven's arms, sobbing. The others watched as their hearts swelled. The poor girl was terrified. Hank noticed the long surgical cuts on her legs, some near to infection.

The group quickly surrounded the girl as they made their way down the hall. They eventually found six other young mutants, ranging in age from thirteen to fifteen, each in similar condition to the blonde girl. They were injured, but none critically so. One of the boys was a similar blue to Raven, and claimed to be able to teleport when asked. However, none of the young mutants were able to use their mutations on account of their malnutrition and exhaustion. By the looks of them, Hank was surprised they were still upright.

As the group neared a large set of doors the young mutants came to a stop. Charles looked at them inquisitively.

"What's wrong?" He asked, not wanting to probe into their minds without consent. Eventually the fifteen year old blonde spoke up.

"That's where they hurt us," she said in a hesitant whisper. Charles slowly nodded in understanding.

"Alright then," he said thoughtfully. "Raven, you and Alex stay behind and protect the children. There's still one more, I can sense them. Erik, you and Hank come with me. We'll be back soon."

The trio set off through the doors. They immediately noticed the difference. This hall was wider, with doors set further apart than in the previous hall, and the air reeked of chemicals. It was almost as cold as the cells had been. Almost.

Charles led the way, with Erik and Hank close behind him. The telepath stopped in front of a smooth metal door.

"This one," he said. "There's a boy. He's maybe eleven. There's others in there too; humans." Charles hand suddenly flew to his temple as he groaned. "Oh god... he's in pain..."

Erik refused to wait any longer. They didn't know if someone had found a way and called for backup. For all they knew, the building was being surrounded as they wasted time. Reaching his left arm out, Erik willed the metal door to be violently ripped out of the wall. What he saw made him blanch.

The room contained a sleek metal table surrounded by four humans in white coats. Lying on the table was a young boy in pure white pants with a matching shirt. The boy was covered in long scars, some fresh, some old. What was oddest about the boy though was his hair. It was almost the color of mercury, a dull silver with streaks of blood in it. As Erik looked to the other side of the table, he saw the operation being performed on the boy's leg.

There was a long cut on the side of the boys calf. Bloody scissors, clamps, and other devices were lying by the boy's leg. One of the white coats had a scalpel inside the boy's leg, doing who knows what, while the pale, silver haired boy writhed in agony on the table under his constraints.

Medical masks covered their mouths, but their eyes were wide in shock as the door was wrenched out of the wall. The scientist with the scalpel in the boy's leg flinched at the loud noise. Barely heard above the sound of the crumbling metal, the young boy cried out in pain as a fresh torrent of blood ran out of his leg, coating the table and dropping onto the floor.

Charles quickly held his hand to his temple and commanded the scientists into the lab across the hall. Erik crumbled the handle behind them. Hank ran to the side of the young boy at the table.

"Shit!" He cried out as he saw the boy's leg. "They accidentally cut the femoral artery. He needs stitches, _now._ " Charles dashed over to a set of drawers at the side of the room and began digging through them as Erik went to the boy's head.

The poor boy's face was coated with tears. Dry blood was caked beneath his nose and ears, as well as on several small cuts on his cheeks and chin. The boy's eyes were beginning to roll back into his head. It appeared Hank had noticed this too.

"Shit, no! Keep him awake! Erik, talk to him. Charles, get me that damned suture kit!" He screamed as he applied pressure to the small leg.

Charles finally rushed over with the suture kit and a handful of gauze. As he and Hank got to work, Erik stared at the trembling boy in front of him, wondering what to do. He suddenly remembered a time when Anya had broken her arm. She had cried for hours on end, tearing Erik's heart apart. He realized with a jolt that the boy's soft brown eyes were remarkabley similar to his late daughter's.

Erik reached down so that his large hands framed the boy's face.

"Shhhh, shhhh," he said softly. "It's ok, it's almost over. They won't touch you again."

The boy seemed to become more conscious at the touch, but he still seemed about to pass out. Ignoring the chaos at the boy's leg, Erik tried to keep the boy's attention.

"What's your name?" He asked gently. The boy simply looked at him. He decided to ask again. "What's your name?"

The boy shakily licked his lips as he attempted to speak. "E Pietro."

Erik looked at him in shock. The boy had spoken Romani. Very few people knew Romani. What had surprised him even more was the boy's name. Erik had once planned to name his child that name, if they turned out to be a boy, and it wasn't exactly a common name.

While Erik had been contemplating this, Pietro's eyes had rolled back up in his head and his trembling had stopped. Erik gently slapped him in the side of the face, growing worried by the second. "Pietro? _Pietro_? Hank, he won't wake up!"

He heard a small snip down by Pietro's leg a few seconds before Hank joined him at the boy's head. The doctor peeled up one of the boy's eyelids and shined a flashlight he had found into it. Next, he pressed his fingers to the side of the boy's neck. He shook his head nervously.

"I stopped the bleeding, but he lost a lot of blood. And he seems way more malnourished than the others." Hank peeled up the boy's shirt, revealing a sight that made Erik's fists clench and his stomach curl. Each of the boy's ribs were clear as day, his stomach sunken lower than even Erik thought possible. The boy looked just as bad as any Holocaust victim, if not worse. Frankly, it was a miracle the boy was still alive.

"We need to get him out of here," Hank said. "I did everything I could, but his still needs medical attention, and that's excluding all the wounds I haven't seen. I have the materials in the jet for an IV, and I'm sure the other mutants need help too."

Erik nodded and released Pietro from his restraints, careful not to aggravate the boy's raw wrists, ankles, and neck. He slid his arms under the boy's shoulders and knees and nearly fell back as he attempted to pick him up. The boy, malnourished as he is, was still surprisingly light. He couldn't have been more than 20 pounds. Hank notice the fumble and gave him a questioning look.

"The boy-- Pietro," he corrected himself, "feel how light he is." Hank walked over and picked up Pietro's arm. He looked at Erik and Charles worriedly.

"Hopefully it's a part of his mutation. I'll know more once we get him back to the mansion."

The trio went down the hallway as quickly as they could without jostling Pietro's injuries. Once they reached the others, Alex and Raven took in the sight of the boy with horror on their faces.

Charles noticed no look of recognition among the young mutants. While these six seemed to at least somewhat know each other, Pietro seemed to be a stranger to them. Filing away that information for later, Charles led the way out of the building and to their waiting jet. Once again, there was no line of defense to go through.

It made Charles blood boil that these people had thought so low of these children that they'd assumed nobody would come for them.

Once on the jet the children were each fastened into a seat, minus Pietro, who was strapped onto a stretcher. Hank had to fly the jet, so Erik stayed by the boy. To the surprise of Charles, Erik had his hand on the side of the boy's face. Erik had only really shown this caring side when they were alone, usually in Charles bedroom.

Seeing Charles watching him, Erik beconed him over.

"You seem to have taken a liking to the boy," Charles said kindly. Erik nodded after a moment.

"He said his name is Pietro." Charles now nodded. He had heard Erik call the boy by this name earlier. "He speaks Romani."

Charles looked at him in surprise. He knew his lover was fluent in the language, as well as how unlikely it was that the boy did as well.

"Does he know any English?"

Erik looked at him and shrugged. "I'm not sure. I asked him his name in English, but he answered in Romani. So I'd guess he understands some English, but his first language is Romani."

Erik paused for a moment as he took Charles' hand.

"You know I had always wanted to name Anya as Pietro if she had turned out to be a boy," he said sadly as he remembered his late daughter.

Charles squeezed his hand in support, suddenly understanding why Erik was so involved with the boy.

"I know..." he answered sadly. "Thank God you'll be here for him as he recovers, for I'm afraid I don't know any Romani."

Erik let out a small smile. He had tried to teach Charles once, but despite his strength in all other scholarly subjects, Romani was definitely not one of them.

They sat there in silence as Charles took in the sight of all the disheveled children. Seeing their blood stained clothes and long white and red scars, Charles silently vowed that he would learn each child's story. He would learn everything they were willing to tell him, they deserved that much. But above all, he would make damn sure each of these children will return home.

 **A.N: I don't know what the hell im doing so hey props to you for getting this far. I'm using google translate for the Romani and all my knowledge comes from either google, the movies, or other fanfics. Thanks? Bye? Kiss kiss.**


	4. FOUR

It'd been nearly two weeks since they broke the children out of that hellhole. Each of the young mutants had varying degrees of success when it came to recovery.

Five of the children had already returned home, with both mental and physical scars. Before leaving, they had recounted how they'd been abducted and demonstrated their abilities once they were strong enough.

There were only two children left now, excluding the small silver haired boy. The blonde fifteen year old girl, Elise, and the blue boy with a strong German accent, Kurt.

Elise had demonstrated her affinity with ice, freezing a glass of water at her mere touch. She said that thankfully, her mutation had left her unaffected by the freezing temperatures in their cells.

Kurt hadn't been so lucky. The blue thirteen year old had been close to hypothermia, but was close to being fully recovered. After several days of rest and many large meals, Kurt had been able to display his ability to teleport short distances. He had amazing balance as well, but Kurt credited his circus background to that, not his mutation (although the tail probably helped).

Despite how well the others were recovering, the older mutants were still taunt with anxiety.

The silver haired Pietro had yet to wake up. They would each take turns at his bedside, ready to call out to Hank at a moment notice.

Hank had spent several hours working on the young boy's leg, as well as other injuries they'd found on him.

Pietro's left arm had clearly been violently broken and healed wrong, so Hank decided to rebreak and cast it while the boy was still unconscious. His leg had been almost unsalvageable, saved only by the boy's remarkably fast healing. By the time Hank had been able to work on it again, the wound was nearly closed up.

The boy was covered in many other large cuts and burns. His wrists, ankles, and neck were covered in welts from where the boy had been continuously restrained for who know how long. It had taken Hank hours to feel somewhat confident he'd done all he could to help the boy.

With nothing more to do, he had set him up on an IV, intent to renew it every hour.

While the others had been malnourished as well, they had nothing on Pietro. At first glance, Hank would have guessed the young mutants were fed maybe one small meal a day, resulting in their sunken abdomens and sickly looks. However, Pietro was much worse. It looked as though Pietro hadn't been fed in weeks.

Even in his malnourished state, he continued to heal remarkably fast. Hank concluded that it must have something to do with his mutation.

He also went through the IV bags amazingly quick. An IV bag that would last a normal person several hours barely lasted him one. Hank figured the boy must have an extremely fast metabolism, also part of his mutation. It was impossible to tell how much the boy should consume in his malnourished state though, so Hank had to guess on all of his dosages.

It was Alex's turn to watch the boy Erik called Pietro. He had already taken a shift watching him today, but felt a strong urge to be with the boy.

Despite the fact that Erik had been the only one to speak to Pietro, each of the older mutants waited anxiously for the boy to wake up, spending as much time as possible with him.

 _Nobody deserves this_ , Alex thought bitterly as he looked at the boy. Little fragile Pietro almost reminded him of his younger brother.

Taking a seat next to the boy, Alex reached over and gently grabbed the hand not in a cast, rubbing the back of his small fingers.

"Hey bud," Alex said quietly, but loud enough to be heard over the machines Pietro was hooked up to. He tried to ignore how cold and pale the boy looked. "You can wake up any time now... they won't hurt you anymore."

He continued to sadly watch the boy. "You probably don't even understand what I'm saying. But we're here."

Alex reached his other handover the adjust the cannula beneath the boy's nose that provided him with extra oxygen.

As he fiddled with the rubber piece the boy's silver eyebrows furrowed slightly. Alex froze, unsure if he imagined it.

 _There_! The boy had furrowed his eyebrows again, just slightly. His head began to slowly turn to the side as a low moan escaped his cracked lips.

Alex jumped up and ran to the wall, not wanting to leave the boy any longer than necessary. He pressed the button on the intercom harder than needed.

"Hank, get down here, _now_!"


	5. FiVe I tHiNk

**A.N: Hey! I still don't know what the hell I'm doing! Fun! I also don't proofread!**

He can't remember what woke him up. Maybe it was the slight push beneath his nose, or the sound coming from beside him. Either way, he wished it would just stop.

They'd just finished the one experiment. They already wanted another? He just wanted to _sleeeeep_.

Despite his exhaustion, he felt himself floating closer towards consciousness.

 _No no no_ , he begged. He didn't want to run yet. Everything _hurt_. Even the back of his hand burned. _At least they'll feed me_ , he thought idly.

He heard voices around him, but his brain was too tired to translate. He noticed a heavy weight on him... blankets? That was new. He hadn't even seen a blanket in years.

He felt something on his shoulder. A hand? Probably a scientist trying to rouse him for more experiments. But no... this hand was... different. It didn't shake him, merely sat there gently. There was something that felt like a thumb rubbing a small circle into his shoulder.

That was odd. The people in the white coats usually only touched him when absolutely necessary, like he was a contagious specimen.

He wanted to lay there and sleep for years, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Using the little energy he had, Pietro pried his eyes open, only a tiny bit. What he saw surprised him.

There were four people crowded around him, none of them wearing white lab coats or surgical masks. He'd almost forgotten what mouths looked like. These people's mouths were in a foreign stance to him. They were turned up at the corners, white teeth showing between their lips.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe that's why they weren't wearing their lab coats. Pietro found the thought oddly comforting.

He realized each of the strangers were looking at him expectantly. Did they want him to run? But they hadn't fed him yet... Pietro didn't think he could raise his hand, let alone sprint at inhuman speeds.

He realized they were talking again, to him, but Pietro was still too exhausted to translate.

After several seconds of silence besides the beeping machines, the man with the medium length chestnut hair turned to welcome someone into the room.

Pietro slowly slid his eyes over to the new form, a man slightly taller than the other, with shorter brown hair. He had a strong jaw but his eyes seemed almost soft. The strong-but-soft man crouched down beside Pietro's head and place his hand by Pietro's forehead. He noticed the others in the room all watching tensely, especially the blonde boy of maybe eighteen years that still had Pietro's hand in his.

The strong-but-soft man gently swept back Pietro's silver hair, and surprised the young boy when he spoke.

"Hei, totul este bine. Ești în siguranță acum." _Hey, everything is fine. You're okay now_.

Pietro simply stared at the man in mute surprise. After several seconds with no response, the man tried again.

"Numele meu e Erik. Tu ești Pietro, da?" Pietro gave an almost invisible nod.

A tall man in glasses behind this other man, Erik, started speaking urgently. Erik listened to him patiently, his eyes never leaving Pietro's. Once the man in the glasses finished, Erik opened his mouth to do what Pietro assumed was translate.

" _Are you hungry_?" He asked in Romani. Just the mention of food gave Pietro more energy, but only enough to give a strong nod of the head. His stomach balled up in pain as he thought about how hungry he was.

The man in the glasses quickly left the room, followed closely by the blonde woman. Pietro was left with Erik, the tall chestnut, and the younger blonde.

" _How do you feel, Pietro_?" Erik asked. Pietro remained silent. He didn't like helping them with their experiments. They'd hurt him whether he helped or not, so why make it any easier for them.

When Pietro didn't answer Erik decided to change subjects. "I _told you I'm Erik. This is Charles_ ," he turned to point to the chestnut haired man, " _and this is Alex_ ," he said, gesturing to the blonde by his side.

Pietro noticed he kept his voice low, maybe to avoid scaring him. But no... he wouldn't be tricked. They were just waiting. Soon he'd be back on the cold metal table, writhing in pain as they watched uncaringly.


	6. Six I think

It worried Erik that Pietro seemed so reluctant to respond. Was he in even more pain than they realized? But the boy had responded when they mentioned food.

Erik was pulled from his thoughts as Hank and Raven came back. Hank held a large tray of food while Raven had water bottles in her hands.

Everyone noticed at Pietro's eyes went wide. Erik leaned down to help prop the boy up against pillows, and pretended not to notice when he flinched away from Erik's touch.

As soon as Hank set the tray down on Pietro's small lap, brimming with scrambled eggs and pancakes, the boy began to move with speed none of them knew the weakened boy had possessed.

Ignoring the fork by his side, Pietro grabbed pancake after pancake and literally shoved them down his throat, barely pausing to chew or breathe.

In the few seconds the older mutants had taken to stare in shock at the child, Pietro had devoured four large sized pancakes and was starting to shove the fifth down.

Hank finally jumped into action.

"Hey, slow down," He said worriedly as he grabbed the boy's arm.

Completely infatuated with the food, Pietro didn't notice Hank until his hand was gripping his arm. He jerked back violently against the touch, eyes shining with unshed tears. Before Hank could stop him, Pietro shoveled more food than they thought possible into his mouth, as though he was afraid they'd take it away from them.

 _Not surprising, considering how malnourished he is_ , Charles thought to himself.

Hank cautiously released the boy's arm once he saw how scared he was.

"Erik, please tell him to slow down. If he keeps at it like that he'll get violently ill," Hank asked.

Erik repeated the phrase to the boy in Romani, though it seemed to have little effect. He only slowed down marginally, taking maybe one or two more bites than previously, all while watching the surrounding mutants cautiously.

Raven set one of the water bottles down by his side. Instead of opening it like they expected, the boy stared at it while he continued to shovel down food that possibly weighed more than he did.

Once he had eaten all the food in a nearly inhuman amount of time the older mutants looked on curiously as Pietro stared enviously at the bottle beside him.

 _He has to be thirsty from the large meal he had just eaten. So why isn't he drinking?_

Erik mentally projected the thought towards Charles, who gave him a thoughtful look in return.

 _Erik... how long do you think he was in that facility?_ Charles responded hesitantly.

Erik had never considered the question. Was it possible this boy had been a captive for years? Long enough for him to forget what a water bottle is?

Seeing how thirsty the boy clearly was, Alex slowly reached over to grab the bottle. With a crack of the seal being broken he opened the bottle for Pietro, holding out the open bottle to him.

After a few tense seconds the boy shot his arm out and grabbed the bottle, quickly chugging its contents.

Raven had moved to hand him the other bottle when Hank gently grabbed her forearm.

"I don't know how much more his stomach can take," he said in a low whisper. "I fully expect him to vomit that back up soon, and I don't want to make the process longer than necessary with unneeded water. He still has his IV to give him fluids. What's important is getting as much food into him as safely possible, and trying to get him to keep it down. I wouldn't have brought him all that food if I'd known he'd actually finish it."

Pietro was too engrossed with chugging his water to hear Hank, but everyone else heard the low whisper.

"Charles," Hank continued, "he needs to rest."

Charles nodded and reluctantly held his hand up to his temple as soon as the boy had finished his water.

Pietro's eyelids dropped almost as quickly as he had eaten.

Alex gently picked up the empty tray of food, careful not to disturb him, while Hank adjusted the blankets on Pietro's small malnourished body.

Nobody said anything until Hank was done checking the boy's IV and monitors.

"Will he be okay?" Alex asked. The others looked at Hank in silent anxiousness. Hank sat there for a moment before answering.

"I don't know," he finally said. "He's severely malnourished, so he's extremely underweight. He's small for his age, and his heart beats way faster than it should, even when he's sleeping. He's still recovering from several infections, which makes him even weaker. And he shouldn't have been able to eat all that food, even as hungry as he is. A person, mutant or not, should have been able to eat maybe a quarter of that if they were as malnourished as he is. His stomach shouldn't be able to handle it."

Hank started to pace and rub his five o'clock shadow. "And I can't develop a real treatment plan until I know what happened to him in there and what his mutation is."

Raven looked at Charles hopefully.

"Would you be able to access his memories?" She asked.

Charles opened his mouth hesitantly. "In theory I could, though I'd like to avoid it unless absolutely necessary."

"I don't know how much longer his heart can handle the stress. If I know how much he was fed I can try to jumpstart his metabolism, but until then it's just guesswork," he said regretfully.

Charles nodded. "That settles it then. But there's one problem. I'll be able to see his memories, but I won't be able to understand his thoughts. I'll be able to sense his general emotion, but Erik, I'll need you to translate."

The metal bender reluctantly agreed. Charles knew how much Erik hated it when his lover when into others minds without their permission, so he could guess how much he didn't want to invade the young boy's privacy.

"Let's get to it then," the telepath said, holding his right hand up to his temple. Drawing Erik's mind with hm, Charles attempted to probe into Pietro's mind.

As soon as he 'made contact', so to say, Charles drew Erik and himself back. His vision swayed and he nearly dropped to his knees, along with Erik.

Hank held him by his shoulders.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" He asked as Raven did the same to Erik.

Charles took a moment to gather himself.

"His thoughts," he said, "they're amazingly fast. I'm positively nauseous just glancing into his mind."

Hank gave Charles a puzzled look. He'd never met or heard of anyone the telepath couldn't read, excluding other telepaths.

"Guys!" Alex yelled as they were all distracted.

He was crouching down beside Pietro, hands framing the boy's face as the silver haired child tensed and started to shake violently. Hank sprinted to the boy's side.

" _Shit_!" He checked Pietro's monitor. "He's going into hypoglycemic shock, even with all the food he just ate."

He quickly began to mess with the IV.

"What does that mean?" Raven asked worriedly.

"It means if I don't get enough calories into him right now and get him to stop seizing, he's dead," He responded urgently. "Fuck, that meal must've been just enough to kickstart his metabolism, at least somewhat. He's burning more calories than the IV can put in."

He quickly disconnected the boy from the IV.

"So you're taking him _off_ of it?" Alex asked, trying not to panic.

"No, I'm putting him on a stronger one." Hank hung a new bag and connected it to the port in Pietro's hand. "I didn't want to give him too many calories too fast cause that can actually be worse for a malnourished patient, but it doesn't look like I have much of a choice."

After what felt like centuries Pietro finally relaxed, only having a muscle spasm every few seconds.

"You can all go get some sleep," Hank said after checking the boy's vitals. "I'll stay with him for a while in case it happens again. I need to run some tests."

 **A.N: Hey look! Still don't know shit! Most of my medical knowledge comes from TV. Ignore all the plot holes and flaws in logic. Happy Halloween to the one person who reads these, AKA me.**


	7. SEVEN

It was all a trick. He knew it. They may be nice now, but soon they'd hook him up to wires and force him to run until he collapsed.

Then they'd leave him there as the treadmill tore his skin off bit by bit, until he fell into merciful unconsciousness.

 _That's probably why they fed me so much_ , he realized. He was probably supposed to run at top speed for who knows how long.

He grabbed the water the blonde boy--Alex?-- had handed to him and drank it as fast as possible. He can't remember the last time he had access to this much water.

And the food, oh the food. There had been so much. The most he's ever eaten in one day was three slices of bread.

As he finished the water he thought back to the delicious round stack of food he had received.

He'd expected hard bread, like usual, but this bread was different. It was soft, and had a taste he didn't recognize. It wasn't salty like his blood or sour like the water in his cell. It was _magical_ , and he shoved down as much as he could before they could take it away.

He noticed an odd sensation in his stomach. It almost didn't hurt as much. Almost. But he was still ravenously hungry.

The water bottle now empty, he felt his eyelids begin to slide shut despite the roar in his stomach as the man with the chestnut hair crouched down in front of him.

He woke up with each of his muscles aching even more than usual.

He was also on his side, he realized. Usually when he passed out they'd just drop him on the floor in his cell, usually on his back.

He heard a rustling beside him and he opened his eyes before he could think about it.

That man was still there, the one with the glasses. He was shuffling through papers with an odd look on his face. He suddenly looked up and saw Pietro staring at him.

The man, _Hank I think_ , quickly put down the papers and approached him. Out of habit Pietro flinched back.

The man started talking, but Pietro could only get a few words through his groggy head, and even less that he knew the translation of. Something about "...you...easy...up...food...".

Pietro's eyes shot wide open at the mention of food. Now he was talking his language. He was starving... it felt like a dog was tearing apart his stomach from the inside.

Hank disappeared from his line of sight but quickly reappeared with a plate of something Pietro almost recognized.

He saw stacks of bread, he knew that much, but there was a strange substance between each slice. It looked brown and creamy, but somehow appetizing at the same time.

Not one to turn down food, he shoved the strange stacks into his mouth and was pleasantly surprised. The brown substance was delicious.

It reminded him of the last thing he had eaten, the round brown bread-like things. It was neither salty, sour, or bland. There's a _fourth_ taste?

The man seemed to read his face.

"Peanut butter," he said as he went to the wall and pressed a button.

Pietro began to shove the stacks-- peanut butter?-- into his mouth even faster. The man was probably calling for the scientists, or the men to drag him away.

He was on the last stack when the tall man that spoke Romani walked in. _Erik_ , he remembered as he shoved as much food as he could fit into his mouth.

Erik took a seat by him, Hank close by.

" _How do you feel, Pietro_?" He asked.

Pietro remained silent. It's not like they cared anyways. Several moments passed in silence. Erik shifted in his chair.

" _Are you in any pain_?"

Pietro almost laughed. Almost. He'd been in pain for the past...how many years? How long had it been? How old was he? It didn't matter. He didn't matter.

Erik let out a sigh. " _Pietro, you need to answer me or else we won't know how to help_."

Once again Pietro almost laughed, but remained silent and unblinking.

" _Ok, how about this_ ," Erik said. " _You answer a question, we give you more food_."

Pietro's stomach lurched. _Yes, yes food. More, I want more._

" _How long had you been in that facility_?" Erik asked tenderly.

The question caught Pietro by surprise. How would they not know? Maybe they didn't actually work with the scientists...

 _No_ , Pietro scolded himself. _It's a trick_. _As soon as you feel safe they'll throw you back onto the treadmill, or worse, the cold metal table usually covered in blood._

He decided to play along. Who knows the next time they'll let him eat?

" _I don't know_ ," he said, voice scratchy from doing nothing but scream for years. " _A long time. And a different one before that_."

Erik's eyebrows furrowed together like he was actually concerned. Pietro felt a small pang in his heart that he was making this man feel this way. He wanted to trust Erik, he really did. But Pietro quickly pushed these unwanted emotions aside.

" _Your parents, where are they_?" Erik asked.

This time Pietro didn't hesitate before he responded.

" _Dead_ ," he said emotionlessly.

Though Erik seemed surprised by the answer, he didn't push it, instead asking, " _Are you in any pain_?"

" _Always_ ," Pietro responded before he could stop himself. He immediately regretted it at the look on the older mans face.

To distract from this guilty feeling he focused his attention of the plate of bread stacks that Hank was carrying.

Erik seemed to realize they hadn't rewarded him yet and motioned for Hank to give Pietro two of the strange food.

As Pietro gouged on the food, not bothering to savor the taste, Erik asked another question.

" _What is your mutation_?"

Pietro slowed his chewing, barely, and looked at the man. He seemed so genuinely curious... _no_ , he corrected himself. _It's a lie. It's a lie it's a lie it's a lie._

Still, it wouldn't hurt to tell since they already knew.

" _I'm fas_ t."

Erik gave him a small smile. " _At what_?"

" _Everything_." Pietro finished off the last bit of his food as his eyes looked pleadingly towards Hank for another one of those stacks.

Erik turned and said something in English to the man with the glasses.

Hank's eyes widened before giving him more food, then immediately beginning to scan through papers.

Pietro gladly took it and ate the food-- peanut butter?-- in mere seconds.

The process continued for a while, Erik giving Pietro food whenever he answered a question. Eventually the talking and eating had worn Pietro out and he had fallen asleep mid-bite.

Erik sat there unmoving as the boy slept. When Hank couldn't take the suspense any longer he spoke up.

"Well?" Hank asked. Erik had been unable to translate while he'd been talking with Pietro, so Hank was completely in the dark.

"We should call down the others."


	8. Eight

A few minutes later they were all assembled in the room, close enough to keep an eye on Pietro but far enough that they hopefully wouldn't wake him.

"So what did he tell you?" Alex asked impatiently.

"It's not good," Erik responded solemnly. "Though that particular facility had only been in business for five years, Pietro was with them long before that. They'd been experimenting on him as long as he can remember, ever since he was a baby."

The older didn't know how to respond to that, merely looking at Erik in silent horror as they thought about all the scars on his small body. Charles was the first to recover.

"What is his mutation?" He asked quietly.

"Super speed."

"That explains his incredibly fast mind," Charles said.

"And his advanced healing despite the malnourishment," Hank cut in, still shuffling through papers. "From my tests, everything he does is fast. His heart rate, healing, metabolism... it explains how he kept down so much food. His body is burning it faster than he can put it in. If I did my math right then he needs a bare minimum of 8,000 calories a day to keep him even close to healthy. But with his malnutrition it'll be even closer to 12,000. If we can keep him eating, drinking, and saving his energy he should be able to gain enough weight for me to consider him in the clear."

"That doesn't explain why he's so light though," Erik interjected, "malnourished or not."

"Actually," Hank said, unable to keep the small grin off his face, "it does. In order to compensate for the high velocity he's moving at, his body made his bones extremely light, almost like a birds. It'd be a waste of energy to drag around a normally-weighted skeleton. He's also able to operate on less oxygen than a normal person for a similar reason."

"He's almost like Darwin..." Raven said sadly. "Adapt to survive."

Before anyone could respond a cry rang out. Pietro had his hands and knees curled into his chest, flinching every few seconds. He let out another heart-breaking scream.

Erik and the others rushed to his side.

"Hank, what's wrong with him!" Erik demanded.

Hank was frantically searching the monitors for a hint to where the boy's pain was coming from.

"I don't know, everything seems normal for him," he responded desperately. Another cry rang out, louder and more insistent.

Hank, giving up on the monitors, leaned down to inspect the boy. He put his hand on his clammy forehead, then checked his pulse. As he went to inspect the stitches in Pietro's leg he noticed something. Hank leaned closer to be sure.

"Look at his eyes," Hank said. "See how they're moving back and forth? He's dreaming. It's just a nightmare."

A fourth scream rang out, pushing Erik into action.

He pushed Hank to the side and gripped the boy's shoulders.

"I don't care if it's a damn nightmare, he's fucking terrified," he shouted at Hank.

He released one of his hands from Pietro's shoulder and brought it to the side of the silver-haired boy's face. Tears were streaming down, coating the pillow. It almost reminded Erik of when he'd first met him.

Alex went to Pietro's feet, gently rubbing them through the blanket.

"Pietro," Erik said insistently. "Pietro."

He got no response. If anything the boy started trembling harder at his touch.

"I don't think we can wake him up," Hank said regretfully.

"Why the fuck not?" Erik asked, still lightly shaking the boy.

"Given how fast his body moves internally, it would need a lot of sleep to compensate. I don't think he'll wake up until his body's ready to."

"So he has to ride out the nightmare?" Alex asked.

Hank looked at a loss for words. "I guess."

Another scream, this time cut off halfway by a whimper.

Erik took a seat on the floor next to the bed and buried his face into the boy's hair.

"Hush, Pietro, it's alright." He whispered softly.

Unbeknown to Erik, the other mutants looked at him in surprise. He hadn't show this much emotion since... _ever_. They all reflexively looked to Charles in search of answers, which he reluctantly gave.

 _He reminds Erik of his late daughter Anya_ , he communicated.

More looks of surprise. They hadn't know Erik ever had a daughter. Maybe one day they'd learn the story, but now was clearly not the time.

"Charles," Hank said, "I need to talk to you."

He led Charles to the furthest corner of the room, far enough away that the others couldn't hear.

"It's about Pietro. You know how you had me run all those tests on the teachers of the school? Including Erik? I ran a similar one on Pietro." He handed Charles two folded up pieces of paper.

"Look at the DNA," he continued.

Charles complied. He looked up after a few moments of inspecting the papers.

"Their Y chromosomes are identical," he said in shock.

"Exactly."

"So that means..." Charles said slowly, "...that Erik is Pietro's father... and that Pietro...is Erik's child."

They both looked back at the man comforting the boy.

"Holy _shit._ "


	9. NEIN!

**Kinda important author's note at bottom**

After a half hour the screams finally stopped, but Erik and Alex still hadn't left the boy's side.

Charles nudged Erik's shoulder, startling him.

"I need to talk to you."

Erik didn't move. God he loved him, but he was so stubborn at times.

"It's important."

Erik finally stood, giving the boy one last glance before following Erik to the edge of the room. Raven and Hank had momentarily left, so Alex was the only conscious person there to hear them, though he was too far away.

"Was is it?" Erik asked impatiently.

"It's about Pietro." Charles noticed that this caught his attention. "Hank ran some tests."

Erik looked at him expectantly. "And?"

Charles hesitated, unsure how to continue. "Do you remember the medical exam Hank administered to all of the teachers last year?"

Erik nodded, wanting him to get to the point already.

"Your Y chromosome and Pietro's... they line up perfectly." He paused before plunging ahead. "He is your son."

Erik stared at him as though it were some cruel joke.

"That's not possible," he stated curtly. "Anya was an only child, and I never..."

Charles noticed a far off look in his eyes.

"Holy shit."

"Precisely what I said."

Erik was shaking his head. "No, she would have told me. I would have known..." He shook his head more furiously. "Oh my God, he's been experimented on this whole time. I should've known, I should've stopped--"

Charles cut him off. "You don't know that. People do crazy things when they're desperate. What's important is that he's here now. Pietro is here, and he is hurting in so many ways, and he needs a father."

Erik didn't know how to respond. He simply stood there as Charles pulled him into a hug.

"He should be waking up soon," Hank said as he inspected the heart monitor screen. "I'd give him maybe twenty minutes?"

Charles nodded, preparing himself.

They'd decided now would be the best time to access the boy's mind. He wouldn't be in any nightmares, and his mind would be in its most relaxed state. Though Charles hated accessing minds without consent, they'd decided it was for the best. They'd rather breach the boy's privacy than force him to relive what had happened to him.

Charles brought his hand to his temple, this time prepared for the insanely fast thoughts. He probed further, bringing Erik with him.

 _Suddenly they were standing in a room with bright white lights hanging from the ceiling. There was a metal table with thick leather straps encrusted with blood in the center._

 _They immediately recognized it as the room they had found Pietro in. But this time there was nobody else, just Erik and himself._

 _The two both turned in confusion, but as soon as their eyes left the table there was a cry. As they looked back, they saw Pietro lying there, eerily similar to when they had first seen him._

 _Four people in white lab coats surrounded the table, each holding some medical device except for one._

 _The one by Pietro's head held a strange contraption. It was almost like a mask made to cover the nose and mouth, but it seemed to have a vacuum seal on the edges and a hole at the top._

 _Erik and Charles watched as they fitted the mask onto Pietro as he struggled against his restraints, making no difference. The scientist that had put the mask on him attached a clear hose to the hole at the top and disappeared through the door._

 _The three remaining scientists positioned themselves at Pietro's feet. The one in the middle was clearly a woman, while the others were men. She grabbed a scalpel, while the other two sat with a pen and paper._

 _Without any warning the middle scientist cut precisely into the bottom of the boy's foot as he began to writhe in pain._

 _Erik made a move to stop them but was stopped by Charles, who had placed a hand on his shoulder._

 _"It's just a memory," he said regretfully. "There's nothing we can do."_

 _They watched in disgust as Pietro's skin was pulled back, exposing his muscle._

 _The woman picked up a pair of forceps and began pulling at the muscle beneath. Pietro's screams we're muffled by the mask._

 _Erik and Charles were too distracted to notice as the fourth scientist entered the room again, this time carrying a large oxygen tank. They only noticed when the tank was set down with a loud clang._

 _The scientist reached down and grabbed the end of the clear hose, attaching it to the oxygen tank._

 _Pietro's screams abruptly cut off as the nozzle on the tank was twisted._

 _"It's not oxygen," Erik said in horror. "It's water."_

 _They watched Pietro violently convulse as the mask filled. I took several minutes for him to finally pass out. Throughout the whole thing the scientists kept digging around in Pietro's muscles. Erik was barely able to watch._

 _The memory mercifully faded, redepositing them into a small room filled with blinding light._

 _Erik knew that he wasn't actually there, yet he could feel the freezing cold biting into his skin._

 _Pietro lay in the corner, his leg manacled to the wall. His face was bloody and bruised in several places, and Charles noticed blood seeping through several spots on his clothes._

 _They watched as Pietro slowly crawled to a puddle of brown water in the corner and scooped water into his mouth, hands shaking violently._

 _Erik's stomach lurched as he watched the boy, his son, forced to drink this disgusting water._

 _Charles put his hand to his temple and suddenly the image around them began to fast forward. They watched as hundreds, no--thousands-- of similar experiments flashed in front of him, each somehow worse than the last. Thousands of hours alone in this freezing cell. Being dragged down the hall like a piece of trash to be thrown away, thousands of times._

 _Finally the images stopped in what looked like a dining room. Three people sat around a wooden table, papers between them. On one side sat a man and a woman, papers spread in front of them. A pen was positioned in the mans hand, poised above the paper. A woman sat on the other side, watching eagerly._

 _As soon as the two signed the paper the woman stood._

 _"Congratulations, you are now the legal guardians of Peter," she said happily._

 _Thank you's and hugs were exchanged before the woman disappeared, reappearing moments later with a silver-haired little boy, barely old enough to walk._

 _As the woman handed the child to the couple he began to scream, tears streaming down his face._

 _The woman who'd signed the papers put the child on her hip and began to softly bounce him, softly saying shhhhh._

 _The couple thanked the woman again and left. As soon as the left the woman's line of sight the couple stopped smiling. They walked to a black car, the man still not even acknowledging the child._

 _The woman opened the door to the back seat with her free hand and put the child down none-too-gently as he continued to cry, wrapping a seat belt around him before closing the door._

There isn't even a child's seat, _Erik noticed furiously. These were obviously the people who had condemned his son to such an awful life. It took everything in Erik not to attack the strangers in front of him._

 _Suddenly the scene in front of him disappeared as he was pulled back to reality._

Charles fell backwards, clutching at his head. Hank caught him by the shoulders, steadying him.

"Sorry," Charles said, shaking his head. "That just... very disorienting."

"What did you find out?" Alex asked.

"Several things," Charles said dejectedly, reciting Pietro's history to them. They all sat in silence after Charles and Erik told them. They'd all suspected it had been bad, but having it confirmed was still awful.

"There's one more thing," he said hesitantly, glancing at Erik. "When we were there, I got a read on his emotions. The reason he was so reluctant to answer your questions earlier, Erik, is because he doesn't trust us. He thinks we're with them, the people that held him his whole life."

He stopped for a breathe and looked at Erik. "So while you were watching Pietro and his history, I granted him access into my mind, in order to convince him otherwise. If everything went right, he should be much more willing to listen to us once he wakes up."

Erik gave him a surprised look. He knew how protective Charles was of his mind.

"Thank you," Erik said earnestly.

Without even communicating it the group sat in wait, anxious for the boy to wake up.

 **A.N: Wow that was the worst chapter yet. I think I was a better writer in fifth grade. Oopsies. Anyways, Raven is no longer in this thing. It was just too many characters. And yes, I know adoption doesn't work like that but I am/was lazy. Once again, just ignore all my plot holes. Kiss kiss motherfucker.**


	10. Ten

When Pietro woke up he was pleasantly surprised to find a tray of food in front of him. It was the same stacks from earlier, the ones Hank had called peanut butter.

After he devoured the first peanut butter he realized the older people were staring at him.

With a sinking feeling he remembered his dream. He remembered Erik and Charles digging through his memories, and Charles granting him access into his mind. But one look at the people surrounding his bed assured him it hadn't been just a dream.

They were all watching him, looks of pity hidden with varying levels of success.

The realization of everything finally hit him. He was... _free_?

He hadn't even known there was a world outside of the facility until recently. And now the facility was gone... and he was with people that actually cared about him... that didn't want to hurt him...

 _It's a trick_ , part of Pietro's mind insisted. _It's a trick, and they work for the scientists._

He quickly pushed away these thoughts. For once in his life, he wanted to be able to trust someone. For someone to say his _name_ , and not call him Subject 3z1.

 _Besides, if they are with the scientists, I'm already screwed. So what's the worst that could happen?_

In the time it had taken these thoughts to fly though his head he had finished the tray of peanut butters with astonishing speed.

The man called Hank approached him with the same oddly shaped container filled with water as earlier. Smiling, he handed Pietro the open bottle.

As the boy chugged it faster than should be possible, Hank leaned down to whisper in Erik's ear, who was sitting by Pietro's bed.

"I put a slight sedative in it to help him relax," he said as Pietro drank. "It shouldn't knock him out, but if he looks tired, let him sleep. He needs it."

Pietro put down the bottle, and Erik realized he hadn't even stopped for a breath before he continued shoving sandwiches in his mouth.

" _Slow down_ ," Erik said, afraid his son would choke. Pietro merely shook his head.

When his mouth was only half full instead of completely, Pietro asked, " _What is this_?"

Erik tried not to look sad as he realized how much his son would have to learn.

" _It's a sandwich_ ," he said kindly. Pietro gave him a confused look as he swallowed more food.

" _Then why did that one call it peanut butter_?" He asked, nodding his head towards Hank.

" _That's what's between the bread_ ," Erik explained kindly. " _The sticky brown stuff._ "

He nodded and kept eating, stopping for more water after his fifth sandwich.

As Charles watched the two he couldn't help but notice the resemblance. Pietro had Erik's dark brown eyes and a jaw bone that would become more prominent with age.

He could tell it was eating Erik up inside not to tell Pietro that he's his father, but they had decided it would be best to wait. The boy was frightened and confused enough without adding that factor in.

"Alex, can you hand me those books?" Hank asked, pointing to a small stack by Alex. He did, glancing at the covers, but none of them were in English.

Hank walked up to Pietro and crouched down, but the boy barely seemed to notice. He was too engrossed in the sandwiches.

He set the books softly in Pietro's lap.

"Here. With your increased mental processing you should be fluent in only a few days," he said as Erik translated.

Alex realized they were Romani to English teaching books.

 _He'll get bored really fast due to his speed_ , Hank mentally told Charles. _If we're lucky, this will keep him distracted for a few days._

 **A.N: Hey look, another plot hole! If Pietro grew up in that facility he shouldn't know how to read, but we're going to ignore that little tidbit for shits and giggles.**

 **I've uploaded like 9 chapters in the past week and that's gonna change real soon cause I'm lazy and school's about to kick my ass. But I'll still try to update once a week for the whole one and a half people who read this (the one being me).**


	11. Eleven

Turns out, Pietro was even faster than Hank had originally thought. He had read over each of the books numerous times in just under two days.

His English was still choppy, but Pietro was clearly a quick learner.

"Grammar will come with time," Hank had assured Erik. "He can only learn so fast."

When the boy wasn't asleep Hank had started to teach him some basic math to keep him occupied, which he picked up on surprisingly quick.

He'd started with zero mathematical knowledge, but was already at a third grade level. Hank attested it to his speed, natural curiosity, and _immense_ boredom.

Pietro had only been conscious for two days and he was already bored out of his mind. A second to everyone else seemed to be hours to him.

They'd been doing everything they could to keep Pietro occupied, but the speedster was practically vibrating with energy.

The boy insisted he was fine, that he would be fine to get up and run. But Hank knew better. Sure, he probably felt great compared to how he was used to feeling, but he still wasn't out of the woods.

Pietro was still recovering, and he still had a long way to go, no matter how great he felt.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Pietro had gotten his father's stubbornness gene.

As soon as Erik fell asleep, Alex left for the bathroom, Charles was out doing whatever, and Hank had disappeared to get them all more food, Pietro made his move.

He knew Hank had told him to take it easy, to not exert himself. But he'd been sitting there for _years_ \-- or, days. _Same thing_. If he didn't move around soon he felt like he might actually vibrate out of his body.

Besides, he loved to run. It was the only thing he'd ever loved. Yeah, it was exhausting, and usually ended with him unconscious, but he couldn't live without it. Running was his escape. The one time he could really think.

He had to run. He had to _go go gogogogogo already._

Throwing off his blanket, Pietro sprang from his bed and out of the room at inhuman speeds.

He'd only intended to run a lap upstairs and then return to bed, he really had. But once he was upstairs he just couldn't stop.

Pietro hadn't left his bed since he arrived here, and therefore had never really seen where he was. But now he knew that he'd been in the basement of an enormous mansion, filled with people--mostly teenagers. Charles had mentioned that he ran a school, but he had yet to really see any of it.

After he quickly rounded the inside of the building, then he'd really meant to go back downstairs. Honest. But then he saw something he just couldn't explain.

There was a girl walking in through a door, almost frozen midstep, but behind her... there was this bright blue up high, paired with another color he'd never seen that covered the ground.

Without a second thought he sprinted outside and skidded to a stop.

 _No way_.

The ground was so soft and bright, and the ceiling was a blue he'd never seen. The were both just so new. He didn't know which way he wanted to look, spinning in slow circles as he took everything in.

Then he felt his muscles tense as his vision went black and he fell to the ground.


	12. Twelve

Hank felt rather than saw the silver blur fly past him.

"Son of a _bitch_!" He dropped the tray of food and sprinted up the stairs.

"Erik! Alex! Charles! Get your asses over here!" He yelled. Once he reached the main floor he saw the students standing there in frozen confusion.

"Where'd he go?" Hank demanded urgently. After a moment one of the students pointed to the main door.

Erik appeared at the top of the stairs that let to the basement, closely followed by Alex.

"He's outside," Hank said as he ran to find the boy.

Once he got through the front door he immediately saw the mop of silver hair. He was laying on the ground, muscles spasming sporadically while his eyes rolled back in his head.

"God damn it!" He shouted when he got to Pietro's side. "Pietro? _Pietro_?" He gently placed his hands on the sides of the boy's face.

The others finally caught up to him, Erik in the lead.

"What the hell happened!" He demanded as he came to his knees as his son's side.

"He used up all of his calories, that's what happened. He went into hypoglycemic shock again. Give me your jacket."

Erik didn't ask why, merely handed it to him as fast as he could get it off. Hank wadded up the jacket and placed it under the seizing boy's head.

"What do we do now?" Alex asked anxiously.

Hank sighed. "Same as last time. We just have to wait it out and replace his calories as soon as I can get an IV back in him."

"Let's get him back to the lab," Erik said as he scooped up his still-thrashing son.

As they walked back into the mansion each of the students stopped to watch. Sure they'd heard about the silver-haired mutant who'd been tortured and experimented on for years, but none of them had been able to _see_ him yet. And there he was, seizing in their most serious professor's arms.

Alex suddenly didn't like the way they were all looking at Pietro, like he was some side show.

"Fucking show's over," he said. He might be the youngest and coolest of all the teachers, but the students still knew what could happen if they disobeyed him. His academic punishments were legendary.

Erik gently laid Pietro down on his bed. He'd stopped seizing halfway down the stairs, now only twitching every few seconds.

Hank had quickly set him up with an IV, praying it would give the boy enough calories until he was conscious enough to eat.

Once he was finished, Erik looked at Pietro and shook his head.

"What are we supposed to do? If he won't stay in bed then he won't get better," he said with a defeated look. "And we can't exactly tie him down without scaring him."

"With any luck this showed him not to be an idiot," Hank said dryly. He suddenly grew more serious. "But if he'd ran even a few seconds longer, he'd probably be dead. His metabolism is just too fast."

Erik took this all in silently. Finally he embraced a startled Hank in a hug.

"Thank you, Hank."

Charles chose that moment to come downstairs.

"What the hell happened? The students haven't gossiped this much since Samuel set the kitchen on fire."

"Pietro decided it would be a good idea to go burn some energy and went into hypoglycemic shock," Alex said wryly. "Where were you? Would've been nice to have someone around that can actually stop the kid."

"Jean was having another episode. Would you prefer I let her accidentally kill everyone in the school?" Charles asked incredulously as Alex held up his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"Well," Hank said in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "he's definitely your son, Erik. He's got your defiant streak."

Alex nearly shit himself. "He's your fucking _what_!"

 **A.N: Wow another bad chapter! Happy November.**


	13. 13

Alex was still having trouble with the realization that Pietro was Erik's son, but had agreed nonetheless to keep it a secret for now.

Several hours later Pietro had finally woken up, gorging himself on food much like the last time. While he ate, the men gave him an extensive talk on not being an idiot with his powers.

"Sorry?" Pietro said, in a strong Romani accent.

Erik tried to ignore how cute his son looked when he was being chastised, peanut butter smearing his mouth.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," he said, hoping he sounded stern. " _You almost died_ ," he added in Romani to be sure the boy understood.

"Very sorry?" Pietro gave them a small lopsided grin. Erik realize he had never seen his son smile before, and his heart melted as he grasped the boy's leg comfortingly.

"You are not to use your powers until Hank deems it fit," he said. "You will eat, sleep, read, and nothing else until you're better."

Satisfied that the boy had at least somewhat learned his lesson, Erik handed his son another tray of sandwiches.

"Eat more. You still have plenty of weight to gain."

Pietro seemed perfectly happy to comply.

It'd been two weeks since Pietro's little run.

Hank had told Erik not to be too worried about the boy's health. Relative to his small size and light bone structure, he was getting closer to a healthy weight.

He was still painfully thin and had dark circles much more prominent than any eleven year old should have.

"It will still be a while before he can safely run," Hank had informed him, "but he _is_ getting better."

With Hank's approval, Erik decided his son needed a change of scenery. Especially now that he was able to stand on his own for more than a few minutes.

The child was going crazy, not being able to run or really expend any energy, despite how little he was able to spare.

"Come on," Erik said, gesturing for the boy to get up. Pietro gave him a questioning look. "Get up, time for a tour."

Pietro sprang up, thankfully at a human pace, a smile plastered on his face.

"Alex, Hank, and Charles are all teaching right now. But I know the school well enough to show you," Erik said as they climbed the stairs, carefully watching his son out the corner of his eye.

He pretended not to notice how tired the boy looked once they reached the top.

"This half of the school is where most of the classes are held," he said as they passed by closed doors. He pointed at one door in particular. "That's the class Charles is teaching," he pointed at another down the hall, "and that one is Hank's. Alex is teaching PE, but that's in a different part of the school.

He continued down the hall until he realized Pietro was no longer next to him. Turning, he saw the boy staring through a window.

He approached his son carefully. Pietro's eyes were wide in wonder as he stared.

"Pietro?"

The speedster didn't answer.

"Pietro?"

He seemed to snap out of his trance, blinking several times.

"What is it?" He asked, not turning away from the window.

Erik frowned. "The window?"

Pietro shook his head. "No, there."

Erik looked out the window. There was nothing there, just an open field with... Erik's heart sank.

"That's grass, Pietro. And that blue up there, that's the sky."

Pietro continued to stare at it.

"What color?" He asked after a moment. "The grass..."

Erik squatted down so he could be eye level with his son. "Green. The grass is green."

 _My God Charles_ , Erik projected, not caring if he was interrupting the man's lesson. _Pietro... my son... he's never seen the outside before he came here. He spent eleven years in that hell and he never once saw the color green, or learned what grass was._

He was beyond heartbroken and furious all at once. Those monsters had taken his son's childhood away from him. He hadn't been a boy to them, he had been a specimen to study in whatever way they wanted.

 _It's alright_ , Charles responded gently, surprising Erik. _He is young and he is bright, and he will bounce back. He's already shown how smart he is, he can make up for lost time quickly. And he has us now, he'll never be alone again._

Erik took a breath to calm himself down. _Thank you, Charles._

He turned his attention back to his son.

"Would you like to go outside?"

Not diverting his attention from the window, Pietro slowly nodded.

Erik gently steered his son by the shoulders until they were outside.

Pietro stared at his bare feet in wonder, wiggling his toes against the grass.

Without communicating it, Pietro and Erik slowly sank down to sit in the sunlight, the boy running his fingers gently through the grass.

They could have sat like that for days and Erik wouldn't have cared.

 **A.N: Surprise I'm not dead, just distracted. Kinda a boring chapter sorry...**


	14. 14

After a while Pietro and Erik moved inside to get the boy a snack-- or more like a meal.

He could tell how exhausted Pietro was as they walked through the halls towards the dining room. The boy was moving slower than usual, dragging his feet. Erik figured he'd get his son some food then make him go back to bed.

As they approached the room Erik could hear the clanging of silverware and roar of young voices.

 _It must be lunchtime,_ he recognized absentmindedly.

As they turned the corner and passed through the doors Erik's suspicions were confirmed. Surrounding several rows of tables were children of various ages, ranging from thirteen to nineteen. They paid the pair no attention as they made their way to the front of the room towards the buffet.

When Erik went to grab a plate he realized his son was no longer beside him. He turned quickly, scanning the room.

There, between two rows of tables they had walked through. He stood with his eyes downcast, staring at nothing, arms pulled towards his torso as his hands shook.

Erik rushed to his son, kneeling in front of him to gently hold his shoulders.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" He asked softly.

Pietro continued to avoid his gaze, eyes flicking all over the room, his body tensing at every sound. He shook his head tensely.

"...can't...can't..."

 _Shit_ , Erik realized, _he's probably never seen this many people before._

The dining room started to quiet as the children noticed the silver haired boy.

"Woah that's him!" One kid said loudly.

"Wow he looks like shit."

"Why's he have gray hair? What is he, eighty?" Said another.

"I heard he killed someone and that's why he's not allowed around anyone."

Dozens of similar comments began to fly through the air, each rising in volume to be heard above the others.

Pietro's breaths sped up as the sounds rose, hands shaking even more.

Erik's tried again to calm him down. "Pietro, hey, it's ok. Focus on me." The boy continued to hyperventilate.

While Erik watched his son helplessly as he mentally called for Charles, a boy around the age of seventeen from one of the tables stood and made his way over to the pair.

Without warning the seventeen year old grabbed onto Pietro's hair and pulled his head back roughly.

"Weirdo. Wanted to be more of a freak, so you dyed your hair?"

Erik was almost as fast as Pietro when he grabbed the boy's hand and wrenched it away.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FUCKING SON."

The seventeen year old looked at him in shock and quickly walked away. At Erik's words the lunchroom fell silent minus Pietro's rapid breaths.

" _Shhhhh_ , _shhhhh_ ," Erik said soothingly as he picked up Pietro and carried him to the door, gently rubbing his back. "We're going back downstairs."

As they left the room Erik could hear the loud whispers starting.

"Did he say _son_?"

Once they reached the basement Pietro's breathing still hadn't calmed. His eyes were squeezed shut and his arms curled up against him.

Erik could feel I'm trembling under his fingers, struggling to get enough air.

As he continued to coax his son, Charles exploded down the stairs.

"Erik, what's wrong?"

He kept rubbing the boy's back as he held his paper-thin son.

"He's having a panic attack. There were too many people," he said, letting his frustration seep through his words. This wouldn't be happening if he'd had the common sense to ease his son into everything.

It's not your fault, Charles told him as he raised his hand to the clammy silver haired boy's head.

" _Sleep_ ," he said gently. Within moments Pietro's breathing leveled out as he went limp in his fathers arms.

 **A.N: I'm gonna be honest, I actually like this chapter. Not the execution, which sucks, but the concept. Feel free to leave a review because it makes my ego feel good.**

 **And also I can't believe alice.in.ink reads my story, your fic Belong is what made me want to write this. Let me know if I accidentally steal anything. Ignore me while I go fangirl...**


	15. 15

When Pietro woke up, all he could think about was his growling stomach. Lo and behold, there was a plate of food waiting for him, stacked high with sandwiches and a small orange bag.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said. Pietro turned his head to see Charles sitting in a chair, eating from a similar orange bag to the one on Pietro's tray.

"How do you feel?" He asked as Pietro dug into his food.

"Fine," he answered between bites.

He finished the sandwiches in record time and was holding the orange bag with a confused look when Charles reached over and opened it.

He found short orange sticks inside covered in orange dust. He hesitantly chewed one and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. It reminded him of the cheese on his sandwiches.

With Pietro's fast mind, he was never one to beat around the bush.

"Is Erik my father?" He asked bluntly. Charles tried to hide the look of surprise fighting to show on his face. It was then that Erik came back into the room, a water bottle in each hand.

 _He wants to know if you're his father_ , Charles told the man.

Erik fumbled, nearly dropping the bottles as he set them on Pietro's bed.

 _How the hell does he know that?_ Erik asked, trying to keep a calm exterior as the boy watched him.

 _I'm not sure, but he just asked me. Probably something you should address._

Erik took a seat at the edge of Pietro's bed as the boy started on the second water bottle.

"I hear you have a question for me," he said, trying to quell his rising fear. What if this was too much too fast?

Pietro brought the half full water bottle down from his mouth.

"Are you my father?"

A.N: Sorry, but I'm getting kinda bored of this story. Probably gonna try to wrap it up pretty soon. Shit happens.


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